On waiting...

It comes as a shock to many people who are not part of the teaching profession that those of us who are new (basically anything under 10 years) spend about half of our year waiting, hoping, stressing, and basically putting everything else on hold while we try to figure out if we have a job for the next school year. The wait officially begins on March 14, the Ides of March, when administrators must hand down their decrees and inform teachers whether or not their contracts will be renewed. Theoretically a teacher who has tenure should have nothing much to worry about, but in recent years even that hasn't been a sure thing. Teachers like me know what's coming and, if we've been through it before, don't even pretend to think anything else should be expected.

I have had two full-time contracts in the last 4 years of teaching. Each one had a plainly written beginning and ending date when I was expected to serve my school to the best of my ability and then leave as if nothing had happened. The first year I was shocked and devastated by how coldly and curtly I was dismissed after my year of service. I felt betrayed. The second time I was expecting it. It still hurt, but I was more prepared. It's kind of like being a trained fighter - the first time you're punched in the face, it's shocking; but the second time you brace for the impact and so it doesn't sting quite as badly.

After four years I have developed a thick skin made of justifications for the system. I can be logical and rational and understand that my district and school and principal have to make difficult decisions and that none of it is really personal. I can explain to people outside of the education profession that my job performance, rapport with students, enthusiasm, and know-how are actually not at all related to whether or not I will receive a pink slip. Logically, rationally, I understand all of this. I can take a deep breath, swallow the disappointment, and try to plan my next move.

But therein lies the true problem.

Teachers, as a species, are planners. It's part of the nature of the job. It's part of why we get hired - we're organized, we have contingency plans for when the technology doesn't work, or the copies are eaten by the copy machine 3.5 minutes before class, or when there's a fight at lunch and it's nearly impossible to catch and maintain the attention of 36 fourteen-year-olds during 5th period. We know how to get through. We know how to be flexible and make the lesson happen against all odds. We plan ahead.

Job searching means that there is no plan.

In June, as the school year was wrapping up and many of my colleagues began asking what I would be doing in the fall, I was able to shrug my shoulders and politely but honestly say that I have no earthly idea. I was also able to keep my breath steady and my heart rate normal while saying this because I still had a plan. It was a minor plan, but a plan nonetheless: I had 8 weeks of PSAT Book Camp to look forward to (and the paycheck that goes with it). Until the middle of August, I was set. But the plan goes no further.

It is now the middle of August. I have two days left of teaching for the PSAT program. I have applications out for a variety of positions in three different counties, many of which would require moving. I have applied for part-time, full-time, middle school, high school, weekend SAT prep, online home school, and a few other options I can't even remember. I have sent resumes and tailored letters to principals and directors. I have interviewed. I have waited. I have woken up in the middle of the night and worried, then woke up in the morning and searched for yet more positions. But still, there is no word. I don't know what I'm doing this year. My current job will be done in 2 days and I have no idea where my next paycheck will come from. I am a teacher and I have no idea where or who I will be teaching, if at all.

Since my boyfriend and I have been together going on two years, I often am asked when we plan to move in together, get married, or start a family. I don't know. Without the security of a job, without even a county to settle down in, it's hard to move forward. I finally gave up waiting and bought a car in June but now I see it and think, Oh my God, how am I going to make these payments? Forget an apartment or a husband or a life. How can I move forward with any of it when some of the basics (a place to live, a job to pay the bills) are so unsettled?

There are many stresses that come with being a teacher. I worry about my students, my lesson plans, the grading that piles up on my desk, the opinions of my administrators, and the correspondence with parents. But that's a stress I love. When I leave work at the end of a long, tough day, I know that I've done my best to guide teenagers and help them become the people they will be. That stress means I care about what I do.

The stress from March to September? I could do without it.